"And when there?" I asked her.
"Tell me," replied my mother, "do you clearly remember the prisoners' faces?"
"Oh! mother, not only can I see them now, but I believe I shall always see them."
"Very well! it is probable that one or other of the three prisoners will sleep in the room called la pistole.... Do you know which la pistole is?"
My mother put me on my mettle. As though I did not know la pistole, I, who knew every nook and cranny of the prison!
"La pistole," I replied, "I know well enough which that is! It is a room leading out of the keeper's dining-room, where they put prisoners who can pay forty sous."
"That is the one! Very well! it is probable, as I have told you, that one or other of the three prisoners will have been put in la pistole; it is also probable that the one to be put there will be the eldest of the brothers Lallemand, to whom the others will have conceded this luxury; it is also probable that the door of la pistole leading into the big room where the keeper has his meals may stay open.... Well, then, while playing with your little friend in the large hall, you must find an excuse for entering la pistole, and then, without being seen, you must give this packet to the one of the three prisoners who happens to be in la pistole."
"Indeed I will."
"Only, you will be very careful, my child."
"Of what?"